Archive of Our Own

What a positively dreadful disappointment it was to discover that the man with whom Julia Sterroll had been half-mad in lust had turned out to be a dreadful bore after all these years. Nearly a fortnight had passed since the near-catastrophic incident with Fred and Willy, and in that time, Julia and Jane had been beside themselves competing for the attentions of their mutual erstwhile lover, and Julia had grown bored stiff. Perhaps Maurice could only charm her in that delicious French he spoke, but in English he might as well have been a wax carving. Oh, at first she had found his occasional search for the proper English term charming in that foreign sort of way, but it grew so tiresome, really. And honestly, what sort of gentleman was he to seek out the attentions of not one but two women at the very same time—and dearest friends at that! Almost as if he enjoyed watching the two of them competing like cats in heat. How disgraceful.

The trouble was, in spite of Julia’s waning interest, the very idea of stepping aside to let Jane throw herself at him unencumbered just about turned her stomach into knots. She had known Jane Banbury nearly all her life, and so she above all others could claim to be well-versed in Jane’s wiles. The very moment Julia so much as gave an inch, Jane would sprint the mile into that wax man’s arms. It was her love for Jane that kept Julia’s sights on Maurice Duclos. A noble sacrifice to keep poor Jane from going off her head again and doing something she would sorely regret. Oh, why on earth didn’t Jane see that oafish man for the empty-headed dolt he really was?

How Julia wished things could have all gone back to before Maurice had made his imminent presence known. It seemed their little harebrained made-up scheme had worked for Fred and Willy were more attentive now than they had been in the last seven years of holy matrimony. Typical. Men were always so jealous, and for what? And while yes, Julia could admit that Fred’s ravenous attentions had been exciting at first—it had been ages since he had taken her like that…

But really, how much was a wife meant to put up with day in and day out? Loathe as she was to admit it, Julia was no longer quite the spring chicken she had been once, and goodness, all of this violent lovemaking was wearing her out. Just as she was certain Willy’s attentions must have been wearing Jane out too. The poor dear had never been well-versed in subtlety. Those first few days, she’d wandered into Julia’s flat on Willy’s arm practically glowing. Obscene, really. That she had yet to learn the basics of disguising a post-coital glow in mixed company as Julia had was such a disgrace at her age. No matter how becoming a rosy flush looked on her fair face framed with such lovely dark hair.

At any rate, the very worst part of having Maurice living just above her was that Julia had scarcely spent one moment alone with her bosom friend since that day. And after years of scarcely being apart for one moment, Jane’s absence left a terrible hollowness in the room. Ridiculous, of course, given that they had seen each other every day. But always in the presence of their husbands or that man. Never alone—just the two of them. Like it was once. How Julia wanted it to be like it was.

All of this ran through Julia’s head as she laid out on her marital bed with her husband’s great big hulking form rutting up above her as he made passionate love to her for the umpteenth time that week. And in the middle of the afternoon, well really. She did so wish he would at least have the consideration to save his carnal urges for a more appropriate time when she didn’t have to fix herself up for the rest of the day. It was all right for a man to wipe himself off, get dressed and go about his business. But a woman took time to put herself back together, for heaven’s sake. And yes, she supposed that Jane could go around with her hair looking like a rat’s nest, but Julia refused to demean herself like that.

But the thought of how Fred would get himself all worked up if she demurred was just too exhausting, and so here she was—her coifed hair flattened against her lovely lilac silk pillowcase and her slip all crumpled up around her waist.

A particularly vigorous thrust had her wincing. At the very least, Fred might have the consideration to vary the routine just a little. But no, he had her pressed into a mattress like a field for plowing. Oh, she wished he were just a little slimmer and lighter sometimes. And that he might deign to harm his fragile male sensibilities and just put on a dash of some sweet and subtle perfume rather than that clotting cologne. Something simple like Jane wore just last night. What a wonderful new scent she’d had on.

Julia let out a breathy gasp.

Where had she gotten it? She simply had to know. Oh, but it was horrid, really. A new scent all for that waxy man. What a dreadful waste.

A new scent. Julia hadn’t been able to get enough of it at dinner last night. A new scent and a new dress, Julia was certain. She’d have remembered if Jane had anything quite like that sinful red number she’d turned up in stashed away in her closet. Jane never worse such bold colors, and here she was, parading about like a walking and talking scarlet letter. The front, at least, had been modest enough, but oh, the back… And Jane had let that horrid Frenchman’s hand linger there on her bare skin, oh, it was enough to make Julia want to scream.

She nearly did scream, but of course, that had everything to do with Fred adjusting himself to a particularly unpleasant angle. With a huff, Julia wriggled into a more forgiving position. Married life was such an indignity, honestly. There were so many other things she could have been doing on this fine afternoon with the sun so high in the sky. And if she were caught up in the bedroom, who knew what Jane was up to on her own. They’d promised each other that they would never be alone with Maurice, but Jane never did have any self-control.

No, Jane was always so flighty. So hysterical. So—

“Jane!” The name passed from Julia’s lips in a high whine that went wholly unnoticed by her rutting husband.

Turning her face, Julia closed her eyes and allowed the memory of Jane in that desperate dress to invade her thoughts once more. Well, why not? If wives were supposed to just lie back and think of England to tolerate their marital duties, surely thoughts of her nearest and dearest friend were no different. And Jane was so very easy on the eyes when she wasn’t crawling out of the gutter looking as if she’d been ravished.

Was Jane beneath Willy now and as dreadfully bored by it all as Julia was? It must have been a bit different, she supposed. Willy was a nice enough man, but rather shrimpy for a bloke. Somehow, Julia had never been able to picture the two of them coupling. And of course, Jane was far more repressed than Julia was—poor thing. A great sense of pity overcame Julia to think about how unfulfilled her bosom friend must have been all these years. She’d heard about it in Jane’s mortified commentary, of course, and it all sounded too fatiguing for words.

She was still thinking about Jane and her no-doubt equally dull marital bed when Fred finished up and collapsed atop her like a great big lump. He let out a snore—dead to the world. Oh, damn him. Why could he never think of her pleasure while he was cavorting away up there?

With a sudden wave of revulsion Julia had never felt before at such a grand scale, she pushed his slumbering form away and staggered into the ensuite to put herself to rights again. What a dreadful bother it all was. At least that tiresome tender lovemaking from before had been at appropriate intervals. Now she had to fix her hair and tend to all that unseemly post-coital business when all she really wanted to do was laze about on her chaise while Jane chattered away about some new happenstance that had her all aflutter.

Oh, Jane. Plain and pretty Jane. She drove Julia up the wall at the best of times, and the wretchedness she’d felt when she’d woken up that awful morning and thought she’d lost her dearest friend had been worse than the pounding in her skull. Even amidst the chaos that had ensued, the sight of Jane in her bedraggled evening dress had been a balm on her soul. Julia and Jane—they could face down the world by each other’s side.

And now this awful man was coming between them. Oh, if only Maurice would just go back to Paris or wherever it was and leave them alone again. How dare he just show up here nine years out of the blue and think he could entertain both of them at once? Wasn’t that just like a man? If Julia didn’t know better, she would have suspected he thought he might actually be able to woo both of them at the very same time. Preposterous.

The French could be filthy pigs about it and engage in ménage à trois all they liked, but the English were far more sensible. The very idea filled Julia with a shuddering horror. She and Jane sharing the same man in the most literal sense—in the very same bed at the very same time—oh! No, no, no. Absolutely not. The jealousy would tear them apart as surely as being drawn and quartered through the streets.

Why, when Julia even thought about what it might be like to just sit there and watch as that waxy Frenchman put his meaty hands on darling Jane… How he would wrap his arms around her slim waist from behind and pull her silk slip up over her head—and Jane would have just the ghastliest expression of glee on her face as he touched her just like a little trinket to possess. How disgraceful. Playing with poor Jane like she belonged to him when the real truth was that Jane absolutely, categorically, undeniably belonged to—

“Julia!”

Flung out of her reverie, Julia rearranged the snarl on her face to a placid smile. An entire day had passed since her afternoon tryst, and thoughts of Jane and Maurice had consumed her every conscious and unconscious thought. Now, with the sun hidden by storm clouds, their husbands off doing whatever it was they did for work, and Maurice nowhere to be found, Julia and Jane were alone at last. And still, Julia could hardly enjoy herself for one moment. Would the torment never end?

“Oh, do forgive me, darling,” Julia said, stubbing out her cigarette in a flurry of motion. “I am simply exhausted. All this running about and Fred all over me every minute of the day. Not to mention Maurice—”

“What about Maurice?” Jane snapped. “Have you seen him today?”

Rolling her eyes skyward, Julia retorted that Jane knew perfectly well she had not. “If you haven’t, I haven’t. And you haven’t—have you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then that’s settled. I don’t know why you insist on wasting breath with such asinine questions, dear.”

It was far too early in the day to be drinking, and after the last incident, Julia had been yet to look a bottle of champagne in the eye. But oh, what she wouldn’t give for a little cocktail just now. But the bell to summon that chattering Saunders sat out of reach and Julia was loathe to sit up for even one moment. She’d draped herself across the chaise with one knee propped up and the other leg dangling onto the floor, and it was terribly comfortable.

“It isn’t an asinine question, and you know it.” Dressed in yet another one of those awful tweed skirt suits that made her look just like a secretary, Jane stuck out her lip in a pout. “It’s only that I haven’t seen Maurice since dinner the other night, and I haven’t seen you either, and I thought maybe… Oh, Julia! Julia, this is just too dreadful. I said we ought to run away to Aberdeen before he even arrived—didn’t I say that?”

Stretching out her leg as best she could, Julia stroked Jane’s stocking-clad ankle with her bare toe. She’d not bothered to dress properly that day as she was far too comfortable in her burgundy house dress and no shoes or hosiery. And it was only Jane, after all.

Darling Jane. For Jane, Julia would have to feign interest in their mutual acquaintance a while longer.

“I suppose we still could,” she mused. “We could go tonight—except, oh, no. Fred and I have that dinner with the Iselins on Friday. But after that—”

“That’s practically an entire week,” Jane despaired. “Oh, Julia, I shall just die if I have to bear this awful situation for even one more minute.”

“You could go off and I could meet you there,” Julia offered—a rather foolish thing to say, she belatedly realized because the moment the words left her mouth, Jane went positively pink with suspicion. “Never mind. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that. I couldn’t care a whit about Maurice any longer.”

“You’re just saying that!” Jane said, going off her head yet again. “You just want Maurice here alone to work your wiles without me to interfere, but oh, I’m on to you, missy.”

Julia threw an arm across her face in exasperation. Foolish woman. “There is nothing to be on, Jane. For heaven’s sake! Maurice this, Maurice that, all day long. It’s insufferable, really. I swear, if I hear his name one more time, I shall scream.”

“I just bet you would, you sneaky underhanded—”

“Do shut up, Jane!”

Grasping blindly at Jane’s hand, Julia hoisted herself upright to look her bosom friend in the eye. She took in the flushed and frantic darting of her eyes and didn’t know whether to embrace her or throttle her.

“I am not in the least bit interested in Maurice Duclos. There, I’ve said it!”

And what a relief it was to finally admit that truth. Everybody from Maurice, to Jane, to their husbands, to Saunders thought Julia head over heels, and it was just too fatiguing for words to keep up with the charade. Feigning interest to keep Jane from winning him over, but not too much so as to push Fred’s silly jealousy over towards something far more serious.

“I don’t believe a word of it. You’re just—you’re trying to get me to let my guard down so that you can pounce just like the cat you are!”

“Jane!” She ought to have been used to this sniping. Their friendship had been built on a tower of it going back decades, of course. But with her emotional state in an uncharacteristically tumultuous period—almost as much as Jane’s was on a regular basis—Jane’s words succeeded in drawing tears to her eyes. How gauche.

She turned away with a disgusted cry.

“Go on, then! Have him! See if I care!” She dabbed at her face with a silk handkerchief and to her fury, she caught sight of the initials stitched in the corner. One of Jane’s she’d borrowed and never given back. They were always doing that—half of Julia’s monogrammed handkerchiefs sat in Jane’s dresser drawer upstairs, and likewise for Jane. “Go on and run off with him and ruin your marriage and our friendship. I’m sure you will be very happy together without me!”

“Oh! Oh, Julia! Oh!” Jane fluttered over her shoulder. “You mustn’t cry, oh, darling, don’t! Why, I don’t care about him at all either.”

Julia’s first instinct—much like Jane’s—was to be suspicions. Another bluff to throw Julia off the mark so that she could swoop in and take him. But Jane sounded so earnest that Julia couldn’t help but turn back to take in her wide beseeching eyes.

“Really, I don’t,” Jane went on. “Maybe I did at first, but it’s all been so much these past few weeks and I miss when it was just us something terrible, but I just hate the thought of you and him together while I eat my heart out alone, and so I—can you ever forgive me?—I’ve been behaving just like a fool over him so that you wouldn’t have a chance.”

“But Jane, I’ve been doing the exactly the same thing,” Julia exclaimed in amazement. “I care about you too much to let you ruin yourself over this awful wax figurine of a man, and so I’ve been behaving like a fool over him to keep you away.”

Amazement gave way to laughter. Not a titter or a chortle, but the kind of laughter they used to share that left them doubled over with the force of their shared mirth, clinging to each other with tears in their eyes.

“Jane, darling,” Julia said, at last catching her breath, “we have been so silly over this whole affair. Falling to pieces over a man we hardly even know, and certainly don’t love, from nearly a decade in the past.”

“How awful of us.” Jane smoothed down her hair. When she smiled at Julia like that, the creases around her eyes deepened in such a becoming fashion. “But I was just so afraid that you were in love with him and would run away and I’d never see you again.”

“Don’t be daft, darling, I could never leave you. Why, there isn’t a soul on this earth, dead or alive, for whom I care more deeply than you. And as for that Frenchman, well really, I do think he is far more attractive abroad. Pisa had its own sort of…well whatever it had.” Julia gave an airy wave of her hand. “That’s in the past now. I might have loved him then, but I could never love him now. Jane, I must tell you, it’s been dreadful pretending these past few weeks. But I just can’t understand what you see in him. Now that we’ve gotten to know him, I just can’t think of him as anything more than some wax figure. Wax, wax, wax.”

They giggled.

“Isn’t he just? It’s been the strangest thing, Julia, but I think I must have hated the idea of you and he together more than I liked the idea of him and I. And you know—oh, this is dreadfully embarrassing—but I’d even started to think that maybe I’d have to…to share him in the biblical sense with you just so that you would be happy and wouldn’t leave me behind. But the thought of the three of us—oh, it filled me with the most wretched jealousy.” Jane shuddered. “And of course, don’t let’s kid ourselves, but he would have chosen you in the end anyway and it would have just broken my heart.”

Julia blinked at Jane in amazement. “Whatever gives you that idea? If anything, I think he might have chosen you—he couldn’t keep his hands to himself at dinner, you know—and I’d have been equally heartbroken to see you run off.”

“Modesty doesn’t suit you, dear. I am perfectly capable of recognizing that you have always been the pretty one—the worldly one—the fashionable one. Even when we were girls. And I don’t mind being the plain and sensible one always bursting into fits, but a girl can only play second fiddle to her oldest and dearest friend for so long without developing a bit of a complex about it.”

“Nonsense.” Julia reached out to cup Jane’s cheek in the palm of her hand. “You’ve always been perfectly beautiful to me. And don’t think I haven’t noticed your emphasis on my being your oldest friend. A mere year between us.”

“A year and seven months,” Jane teased. But beneath Julia’s palm, her cheek warmed at the compliment. “That’s nearly two.”

“Fine, have it your way. I shall age into the wrinkled old crone while you remain gay and youthful for another two years. Then perhaps you shall realize that you were always pretty.” Julia pursed her lips. “But you’re right about your fashion sense, darling, it’s just dreadful.”

She laughed at Jane’s indignant squawk. She’d never tire of it, no matter what she claimed to the contrary. Men could come and go, but without Jane, Julia didn’t know what she would do or who she would be. And she had no intention of finding out.

“Still, I put up with these ridiculous tweeds because you are so very fond of them,” she continued. “Goodness, but what a relief it is to be done with that man. I think the idea of him must have been far more alluring than the reality. Once he arrived, it all went wrong, and I realize I must have put him up on a pedestal because he was someone we had shared. But he is no more precious to me than a bauble. It is you who I think of as a diamond, my dear.”

Julia leaned forward to press a chaste kiss on her dearest friend’s other cheek. It was Jane’s fault it happened, really. She was the one who had to go and turn her face just enough so that when Julia’s lips landed, they didn’t touch Jane’s flushed cheek at all.

No, not at all.

Shock rooted both women to the spot. Julia’s heart started to pound in her chest. She could feel Jane’s face burning hot beneath her palm—the one she hadn’t let fall all this time—and the soft skin of her lips, and—

They wrenched apart.

“What did you do that for?” Jane asked, her voice shrill in her panic.

“Don’t look so put out, darling,” Julia said, trying to laugh it off while her insides felt as if they’d been tied into knots. She fluffed her blonde curls, willing her own hot flush to recede. “If you hadn’t moved your head, it wouldn’t have happened. Now, as I was saying—”

“You kissed me!” The accusation pierced at Julia’s stuttering heart, but she refused to give in to panic. Jane was the high-strung one. Jane was the one prone to hysterics. If Julia surrendered as well, there was no telling what would happen, and their friendship could not survive another blow so soon.

“I did not,” Julia scoffed. “Oh, really, Jane. It’s not a crime to share a peck of affection with a dear friend. We’ve done it before.” Never so blatantly on the lips though, Julia had to admit to herself. “If it’s upset you so much, I take it back. There, now can you please lower your voice? Have a cigarette to calm down.”

“I don’t want a cigarette or an apology. I want—I want—I—”

“Spit it out now, before you burst.” Concern wrinkled at Julia’s brow as she took in poor Jane’s agitated state.

“You can’t take it back,” Jane declared, climbing up onto her knees. “You can’t, you can't, you can't! I won’t let you! I—I—oh, to hell with it!”

She grasped the fabric of Julia’s house dress in both hands and swooped down to plant an unmistakable kiss on her agape mouth.

Of all the things to have happened that afternoon, Julia would never have guessed this sudden turn of events in her wildest dreams. The sudden quiet that blanketed a mind that had been racing and racing without end was nothing short of bliss. Was it any wonder Julia acquiesced so easily to Jane’s hunger?

Her head spun, intoxicated by Jane’s passion as she fell back against the cushions. Jane’s weight atop her was slim and light and her scented perfume cocooned around them in a fog. Delirious with delight, Julia pulled Jane even closer, wedging one leg between the back of the chaise and Jane’s slender hip. She didn’t even mind when that awful tweed chafed at her bare skin.

“Jane, darling,” she breathed, the name floating from her lips to Jane’s.

“You can’t know how much I have thought about you these last few weeks, Julia,” Jane said in between frantic kisses. “God, I have been burning with jealousy, and it was only when you kissed me that realized I wasn’t jealous of you at all!”

“I hated him touching you,” Julia confessed. Her fingers tangled in Jane’s soft brown hair. “I couldn’t stand it when he would look at you. You are mine, darling.”

“Yours,” Jane gasped. “And you are mine, Julia. He can’t have you. I won’t allow it. Oh, you drive me mad, you wretched creature, you. All your teasing and flirtations—I shan’t put up with it another minute.”

“I haven’t the least—mmm—least idea what you mean,” Julia purred.

“Liar.” Jane broke away with a ragged gasp, looking damn near ruination already. “You and this dress you pretend is just some old thing you just threw on when we both know exactly what this zipper is for. And those big grey eyes of yours always so coy. For God’s sake, Julia, I could just—”

She buried her face in the crook of Julia’s neck, too ravenous to manage another word.

Half-mad with lust herself, Julia only just managed to bite out a warning that if Jane so much as left a mark on her, there would be hell to pay. And then she had to clasp a hand over her mouth lest she make any more unseemly noises.

But Jane wasn’t satisfied in the least. With a beastly snarl that went straight to Julia’s loins, Jane seized hold of her zipper and wrenched it down.

“Jane!”

Julia lay there in a daze, her dress wide open and slip askew. Slight bosom heaving, legs akimbo, embarrassingly aroused. The heat in Jane’s eyes as she trailed down every inch of exposed skin made her mouth run dry.

“I have to have you, Julia, I just have to,” Jane pleaded. “You are always so damned perfect—but oh, how I long to ruin you.”

And then, with a brazenness Julia hadn’t known Jane to ever possess, Jane reached up beneath the hem of her slip and tore her silk knickers down her legs.

“Jane, what on earth has gotten into you?” Julia said with a squeal. But she made no protest when Jane urged her to sit up and make room between her splayed legs. “Really, darling, right here in the middle of the—ooh—oh my—oh yes…”

Melting faster than a pat of butter on freshly toasted bread, Julia sank back, half arched over the arm of the chaise as Jane descended on her. She left a trail of kisses over her collarbone and scantily-clad bosom. Scratched little pink lines up Julia’s trembling thighs. And as for her tongue… Well…

Jane’s face disappeared between Julia’s parted legs, and her tongue started to conduct a most sinful symphony. Struggling to keep the orchestra at a pianissimo, Julia keened and sighed and wondered just where on earth Jane had learned how to do a thing like this. Little uptight Jane whose sex life had never been more exciting than missionary was now feasting on Julia like a woman starved.

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Julia panted out, spreading her legs as wide as the chaise would allow. Her right heel hooked over the back and rested atop the sideboard. She reached down to take a fist full of Jane’s unruly hair and guide her where she needed her most.

“Oh, yes, darling, there—right there—oh Jane! Jane, you—you little minx. That’s it,” she encouraged, “that’s it, yes—like that—good girl, you’re perfect—you—”

Then, Julia had to bite down on her knuckle to keep from shrieking as Jane’s teeth grazed that dear little spot her foolish husband had never been able to find. And to her eternal horror, in her haste to silence her voice, Julia neglected to rein in her body. Her leg went kicking out and in a deafening clatter, the summoning bell went flying off the table, ringing all the while.

Jane wrenched herself up, telltale moisture smeared across her lips. Their eyes met with dawning panic, and quicker than lightning, they scrambled to put themselves back into some semblance of order. What a disaster it was. As Saunders' footsteps and operatic trills drew ever-nearer, Julia’s zipper caught halfway up her sternum and Jane’s ring snagged in her brown hair, but somehow they managed to look perfectly nonchalant when the maid came waltzing in.

“You rang, ma’am?”

“Oh, Saunders,” Julia said, her voice high up the octave. She cleared her throat. “Silly me, I knocked over the bell while reaching for something. Never mind. So, Jane, as I was saying, I feel just the same about zoos as I do about circuses—those poor animals.”

“Yes, I quite agree,” Jane said, “and have you heard the news about yet another divorce in our circle? Mrs. Bell has—”

Transfixed as if by magic, Julia watched Jane’s lips move. There was just the slightest bit of glistening moisture left at the very corner, and oh…

“Saunders,” Julia said, derailing Jane’s entire sentence with her outburst. “Do clear up in here and then see to supper, won’t you? Jane and I will be going straight to bed—to the bedroom!”

“We will?” Jane gaped at her.

“Yes! Yes, we will go at once!” Julia vaulted off the chaise and pulled Jane up with her. “I have been saying for the longest time that I simply must clean out my closet to make way for new things, haven’t I Jane?”

“Oh, oh yes!” Jane bobbled her head as she let Julia practically drag her towards the staircase leading to the boudoir. “And I said the last time that I would be happy to help you go through and take off—take out!—what you wish to dispose of.”

“Yes, exactly,” Julia said as they approached the landing, “and we don’t want to be disturbed, Saunders, is that understood? Only, dear Jane is so shy about these things, and I have insisted that she take anything she wants. Whatever it takes to get her out of these dreadful tweeds, isn’t that right?”

“They are not dreadful,” Jane cried.

“Horrid, darling, just horrid.” Julia flashed Saunders what she hoped was a commiserating smile. “Now, get inside and take them off at once!”

Saunders craned her neck up to look at them. “Shall I come and help too, ma’am? See, I was a seamstress’s assistant for a good while back in my day and I know a thing or two about alterations. My expertise might be just what you need—”

“No!” both woman said at once.

Then, more staidly, “no, thank you, Saunders.” Julia gave her a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m sure we can manage. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of the day for yourself? You work so hard and I don’t want you to feel unappreciated.”

“Thank you, ma’am, that’s very kind of—”

The door slammed shut.

“God, will she ever shut up?” Julia lamented.

And before Jane could get any grand ideas of taking charge again, she took her by the lapels of her awful tweed jacket and pressed her against the closed door. Jane was only a little taller than she was when they were on equal footing, but those damned heels added extra height Julia had not the patience nor the ego to deal with. She pushed, and Jane sagged inches further.

That was more like it. Jane was so pliant when she wasn’t overcome by neuroses. Poor thing. Julia was just going to have to find a way to keep her soft and acquiescent. It was for her own good. And judging by the near-constant moans, Jane agreed.

Julia could taste herself on Jane’s curling tongue. The realization had them both panting and squirming where they stood.

“I want you desperately,” Jane whimpered. It seemed the journey from the chaise to the boudoir had frayed at her earlier brashness, because her fingers fumbled with Julia’s caught zipper, and the dazed glassy expression on her face told Julia she might just swoon if they weren’t careful.

“Then you must stop trembling and take hold of what you want,” Julia said, covering Jane’s hands with her own. Together, they managed to unstick the zipper, and the house dress went flying across the room.

Jane’s tweed jacket soon followed. A pity it wasn’t out an open window, Julia thought ruefully as she lifted her arms over her head to let Jane wrench off her slip. It was a pale pink color she thought went rather well with the burgundy dress, and matched the brassiere. A contrast to Jane’s own black slip and plain white undergarments. But she looked just darling standing there half-naked and debauched.

Overcome with a ravenous hunger of her own, Julia tore a little too vigorously at the stockings and garters, much to Jane’s chagrin.

“You beast! Silk is a fortune these days,” Jane cried, looking positively precious as she pouted in nothing but her pantaloons.

“Not half as much as it was half a decade ago.” Julia rolled her eyes and flung away the ruined stockings. “Honestly, Jane, stop being so melodramatic and get in bed. Or are you going to run out on me over a pair of stockings?”

Feeling more than a little ridiculous herself standing there in just her brassiere, Julia flung aside the duvet and climbed in, shedding her final garment as she went.

Jane wasted no time. They met in the center of the bed, each more determined than the other to join as one as they kissed and caressed with a fervor. Darling Jane was softer than Julia was, having not given in to Julia’s constant needling about joining her in her ballet classes. How wonderful it was to have such softness pressed against her—soft breasts, soft belly, soft hands.

With Jane, Julia felt powerful. And she felt vulnerable too. Wasn’t that a delicious cocktail for consumption?

 Jane anchored an arm around Julia’s waist. Julia let Jane think she could get the upper hand for a little while as they rolled about atop the bed. But at last, with a smirk as sly as the serpent slithering out of Eden, Julia pounced. She took hold of Jane’s delicate wrists and pinned them down, sitting astride like a huntress over felled prey.

“Oh, my.” Jane panted up at her. She gave her wrists an experimental twitch, but there was no escaping Julia’s firm grasp. “All this from your ballet classes? I may have to go after all.”

“Ballet and a few other exercise classes down at the salon. Divine for the body, darling.” Julia tossed her bedraggled curls out of her face and leaned down to kiss Jane’s swollen lips. “Now, where was I?”

“I believe I was between your legs.”

“You still are.” Julia giggled as she tapped her knees against either side of Jane’s hips. Then, she swallowed as she realized how close they were…down there. Little blonde and brunette curls mere inches away. All she had to do was settle down just a little—

They both gasped at the first contact. And then Julia couldn’t wait any longer. She pitched forward and flush up against her dearest friend—her lover. A body just like hers: two modest breasts, a slender waist, soft downy curls below. Nothing foreign and ugly poking out between them. No wiry chest hairs to chafe her fair skin. No rough hands that cared more about putting balls in holes than—well.

Jane clung to her. A possession all too happy to be owned by this dear woman, Julia melted into her embrace. Curtains of hair framed their faces and got stuck in their mouths, and they just giggled and brushed it aside to keep kissing. Sex had been fun once, and now, hardly able to contain her glee, Julia realized that it hadn’t been in a very long time.

“Julia?” Something in Jane’s tone made Julia pause.

“Don’t think,” she told her. “Just stay here with me. I want you as desperately as you want me, darling.”

“Then please,” Jane whined. “Please, I can’t wait a moment longer. If you don’t touch me right this instance, I will die—I will just die!”

“Only a little death, darling.” Julia laughed at her silly quip and started her teasing descent down Jane’s beautiful body. She’d been all but consumed by thoughts of it for the past twenty-four hours—longer, if she were being at all honest. How it would feel beneath her fingertips. How it would taste on her tongue. What it would look like contorted in exquisite agony.

Perfect, was her only conclusion as she nibbled on the pale sensitive flesh of her bosom friend’s bosom. She must have whispered it aloud because Jane let out the most darling little keen. Julia’s lips curved into a smile against her breast. More keens. How sensitive Jane was in soul and in flesh. Julia couldn’t help but indulge in a little nip.

“Julia!” Jane’s head thrust back into the pillows. Her chest arched forward. “You—you said no marks!”

“For me, dear, but you are fair game. Willy wouldn’t notice a love bite upon your breast if you shoved his face in it.” Julia laved her tongue over the smarting flesh in a silent apology she didn’t really mean.

She remembered with grim derision how Jane had once mentioned that Willy had very little interest in bosoms, and wasn’t it good then that she hadn’t much of one to speak of? She’d laughed then, but now it filled her with a righteous indignation and Julia felt it her sworn duty to make up for years of neglect. How obvious it was to her in a matter of moments how sensitive Jane was there, and how much she liked Julia’s violent attentions.

Still, Julia managed to restrain herself just enough to maintain some propriety before she left Jane’s breasts looking like a crime scene. But she’d never tire of Jane’s high-pitched squeaks and whimpers as she had her wicked way.

“You bloody tease!” Jane twisted her hands into the sheets.

“Naughty girl,” Julia admonished with a laugh. “What a filthy mouth you have.”

“Only because it’s been licking at your—”

“Jane!” Julia couldn’t contain her delighted giggles. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I? Well, I suppose you’ve been such a good girl for me…” She gave each pointed nipple a tender kiss. And then Julia sank lower.

Jane had been frantic and sloppy and desperate as she’d thrust her tongue between Julia’s parted thighs, but Julia had more patience than that. She took her sweet time on the pretense of teasing her poor neglected friend. But really, it was to calm the raging storm of panic drumming against her rib-cage.

Ridiculous, really. It was only Jane. And Jane was only her nearest and dearest. Her other half. Her beloved. Oh, dear.

She hoped her shaking hands and quivering lips might be interpreted as anticipation as she kissed and caressed along Jane’s inner thighs. But Julia had never done this before, and Jane deserved to have it done right. She’d had her fare share of oral lovemaking done to her, of course, but a man was different. An appetizer before the main course, they never lingered long enough for her to savor it.

What if she couldn’t stomach the taste? What if she tired out too quickly? What if Jane laughed at her efforts? Julia just hated to be mocked. She’d positively die of humiliation if she couldn’t succeed in making Jane—

The moan Julia let out as the first taste of Jane coated her tongue was worse than obscene. All thoughts of taking her time flew from her head. Addiction came on hard and fast and this was more delectable than the finest liqueur. If Julia couldn’t devour this ambrosia from the gods every last remaining day of her life, she would die.

“Julia!”

Julia wanted to devour her. Slick wetness coated her tongue and dripped down her chin. It wasn’t elegant in the least, and Julia didn’t want it to be. This was so much better than making oral love to a man, she thought hazily as she lost herself in Jane’s needy cunt. Here, she could breathe as much as she liked—though, in her intoxicated addiction, air was the very last thing on her mind. It was so soft and sweet, and all her little licks and sucks elicited the most darling cries. Music to her ears.

“Oh, Julia, oh—oh—oh yes!—” Jane’s hands flew to Julia’s hair.

Growling out a warning, Julia caught her by the wrist. Not even for Jane would Julia willingly suffer through resetting her curls if she could avoid it.

“S-sorry—don’t stop—please!”

Jane smoothed away the damage. Her nails dragged lower, leaving little tingles down Julia’s long spine in her wake. Even caught in the throes of pleasure, she let Julia have her way.

“Good girl,” Julia praised, her words muffled as she teased Jane’s little bundle of nerves with the flat of her tongue. And, just for good measure in case Jane forgot herself again, she gave just the slightest nip.

“Wicked woman!” Jane yelped. Then, almost shyly, “do that again? Please?”

What kind of woman would Julia be to refuse such a polite request? She soon settled into a steady rhythm that had Jane in a positively wretched state.

Nip, soothe, suck, soothe, suck suck, swirl, nip, soothe, suck, soothe…

“Julia—Julia—Julia—” Jane chanted, struggling to gasp out her name a little more with each passing moment. Her thighs trembled and the only thing keeping her from canting her hips like a wanton woman was Julia’s strong grip pinning her in her place. “More! Please, I’m so—please! Julia!”

And Julia could feel the way Jane’s poor neglected cunt pulsed for her. Surely if she could contort herself into pliés and those awful stretches that fitness instructress twisted her into, Julia could turn her neck just enough to let a finger slip inside.

“Oh, dear—” the final word was cut off as Jane flung a pillow over her face. Saunders may have been dismissed for the day, but one never knew how thin the floors and ceilings were in flats like this. And really, Jane was such a caterwauler—who would have ever guessed it of her? The poor thing must not have been properly fucked in ages.

It was with no small amount of smugness that Julia redoubled her efforts to give her darling dearest the most perfect little death she had ever experienced in her repressed little life. She could feel Jane pulsing around her fingertip, and throbbing against her tongue. Only a little more would soon send her into the abyss.

And Julia would be there to drag her back out again.

When Jane at last reached her peak, it was Julia’s hair that paid the price. Resigned to her fate, Julia stroked her through it, savoring every muffled cry and convulsion. One couldn’t fault a woman for forgetting herself in the throes of unknowable ecstasy, Julia supposed as she kept up her relentless assault until at last the inconsiderate hand in her hair moved to tug her away and not pull her close.

“Next time, I shan’t be so forgiving if you mess up my curls like this,” Julia huffed, prying Jane’s hand from her golden locks.

Boneless, Jane mumbled something from beneath her pillow. And for the first time, Julia took her in. What an infuriating conundrum it was that to have Jane’s taste flooding her tongue meant turning away from the most beautiful wonder of this world. She set aside the pillow and smoothed Jane’s own disheveled hair from her sweat-soaked face. Sex-flushed and sated, Jane gazed up at her with the loveliest glassy-eyed expression.

“Kiss me,” Jane rasped.

Shuddering at the thought of Jane tasting herself, Julia obeyed without hesitation. And in a demonstration of equal or greater inhibition, Jane did more than just taste herself. She dragged her tongue across Julia’s flushed face over and over, licking up every last drop of her own arousal. And when she had finished cleaning up the outside, she delved inside.

There was nothing soft and delicate about the way Jane shoved her eager tongue halfway down Julia’s throat or sucked at her lips until they had swollen to nearly twice their usual size. Jane wanted her with an appetite that would have been alarming to anyone else. But Julia knew Jane better than anyone in the world. They were two halves of a whole. No matter how ravenous Jane grew, it could never eclipse Julia’s own hunger.

So caught up in twining her tongue around her lover’s, Julia had no defense for the unexpected assault on her most sensitive and delicate place. A sudden thigh slotted between her splayed legs. Nails digging into her hips to hold her down. She broke away from Jane’s hungry mouth with a ragged cry.

“I want to watch you,” Jane breathed. “Can you—? Like this? Just this first time, I promise. Then I’ll ravish you the way you deserve, darling.”

“I—” Julia’s eyes fluttered shut as her brow furrowed in concentration. Unashamed of her overflowing desire, she let her hips cant. Slow and sure at first, then faster and more frantic with each passing moment. “I—yes—yes, darling—yes—oh, Jane—”

Sparks of pleasure danced beneath her skin. This desperate rutting couldn’t possibly be attractive. She didn’t dare open her eyes in case she saw even the slightest hint of mockery before her. It wasn’t attractive and it wasn’t enough either. With a growl of frustration, Julia wrenched back her fraying control. She slid forward, slotting the slight jut of Jane’s hip just where she needed it. The difference was incredible, and she let out a wordless wail. Blindly, she shot a hand out to brace herself as she started to grind. Her fingers soon found Jane’s modest bosom and she gave no thought to how hard she squeezed. If Jane thought she could get away with ruining her hairdo, she could put up with a little roughness of her own.

“God, you are stunning, Julia,” Jane breathed. “Look at you—the most breathtaking sight I have ever lain eyes upon in my life.”

Julia gritted her teeth. She wanted to scream at Jane to shut up; she wanted to beg her to say more. What she must have looked like couldn’t have been at all pretty. Blotchy pink skin, hair like a rat’s nest, all those embarrassing parts jiggling stupidly with the force of her frantic rutting.

“Beautiful,” Jane insisted. As if she could read the mortification in Julia’s agonized expression. Her hands held tight to Julia’s hips, urging her on. “What more do you need, sweetheart?”

Bracing herself, Julia forced her eyes open. And the sheer sincerity etched into Jane’s face nearly sent her sprawling.

“Jane, please. More. Please.”

“Oh!” Jane’s face lit up. “Lift up.”

Julia pushed herself up on shaking knees. Embarrassed to have made such a needy whine at the loss of contact, she slammed her eyes shut once more. And so, she never saw it coming when Jane reached down between her legs and slipped two fingers inside.

“Fuck!” Her eyes flew open just in time to catch the Cheshire Cat grin on Jane’s face. It was a delicious stretch, but one that took some getting used to. Didn’t Jane know anything? “Give a girl some warning next time, you wicked thing. And after I was so very generous with you. Honestly, Jane.”

“You seem to be doing an awful lot of complaining for someone in your position. You mustn’t forget that I can do this—” Jane curled her fingers upward as if beckoning Julia closer— “whenever I like.”

Julia had no retort as all her concentration had gone into not screaming the entire apartment building down around them. Slowly, deliberately, she started to move her hips. Eyes rolling back in pleasure, she allowed herself one restrained groan.

“Very well,” she said in a strained, measured tone, “if you think you can, why don’t you show me what you are capable of, darling? Your little performance downstairs was endearing, but if you ask me, wholly lacked focus and technique. And if this is anything like—”

There was blood in her mouth from the force of which she had to bite down on her lip to keep from screaming.

“You were saying?” Jane blinked up at her with an innocence Julia wouldn’t have bought for the world. A difficult sale when they could both hear the audible—and there was no delicate way to phrase it—squelching sounds of Jane making mad passionate love to her.

“Careful, darling,” Julia purred, her voice a low rasp. Rolling her hips just so, she reached out to grasp Jane’s chin. “You and I both know one snap of my teeth would send you running for the hills if only your legs weren’t so wobbly after my having made you see stars. Now. Be a good girl for me and do stop talking. Curl your fingers like that again. Yes—yes, just so—oh, that’s wonderful, darling…”

They eased into a moderate tempo. Jane’s arm anchored around her waist, drawing them close. It was easy to let herself go like this. To tuck her face in the crook of her dearest friend’s neck and let herself moan and gasp to her heart’s content. To inhale Jane’s sweet perfume tinged with that animal musk of sex and sweat. To lose herself in pleasure, safe in the knowledge that Jane would always find her and bring her back again.

“Keep your thumb pressed right there—that’s it—don’t stop—oh, you’re so good to me, darling—so good—just—oh—oh, Jane!”

Julia arched as if struck by a lightning bolt from the storm that raged outside her windowpane. White spots clouded her vision. And there was only pleasure on top of pleasure on top of pleasure for what seemed like an eternity.

Her back hit something soft, and the strength vanished from every bone in her body. And there was Jane, her lips so sweet as she pressed featherlight kisses across her cheek, and combed her fingers through her curls, and molded her body up against Julia’s until they were practically one.

“Next time,” she mumbled, “I demand you make love to me in a way that doesn’t utterly wreck my knees.”

They both winced at the audible pop as Julia stretched out her legs.

“Wasn’t it worth it though? Just a bit?” Jane pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

It was just as well Julia was already flushed as scarlet as she could be. A thing like that would have only made it worse.

“I suppose,” she hedged. She traced circles against the curve of Jane’s hip. The one that hadn’t gotten soaked earlier, that was. “And while I am making demands on next time, I do believe you need a lesson or two on patience.”

“How about right now?”

Julia gaped at her. “Don’t be ridiculous, darling. Or are you not satiated yet, you naughty thing?”

“There’s no time like the present, Julia, isn’t that what you always tell me?” Jane sat up with a wince of her own as she stretched her arms up above her head. Julia watched the subtle curves of her body with great interest. “And you can’t tell me that the world-weary Julia Sterroll has never gone again in the same night—or afternoon, as the case may be?”

Julia pursed her lips. “Of course, I have, darling. My stamina is not in the least bit in question. I only thought to spare your poor delicate wrists. But if you’d like to finish what you started earlier, by all means. But I really did mean it when I said your technique left something to be desired.”

“That wasn’t what you said when you almost got us caught in the act by your maid,” Jane retorted. With a high-pitched squeal of indignation, she thrust Julia’s knees apart and stared down at what lay between. She chewed her lip for a moment, then said, “but if you think you know so much, I suppose you’ll want to give thorough instructions.”

Julia smirked. She caught Jane by the hair and pulled her down. “Very well, darling. If that’s the way you want things. I think that is a grand idea. Be a good girl and stick out your tongue for me. That’s it.”

Instructive cunnilingus proved to be an edifying afternoon activity for both women. For Julia, it was a lesson in self-control—no matter how divine dear Jane’s lips felt down there, her composure must never slip. For Jane, it was a lesson in how to put that flapping tongue of hers to far better use than her usual hysterics—and really, what could be more calming than bringing her dearest friend to a second toe-curling orgasm in one afternoon?

-----

In the afterglow of a marvelous afternoon, Julia dozed in her marital bed with someone who was most certainly not her husband resting her head on her chest. She couldn’t recall having so much as thought of the gentlemen even once in what must have been hours. In here, it was only her and Jane, just as it was always meant to be. Thank goodness they could be done with that man upstairs once and for all. She couldn’t wait to send him packing.

Jane’s soft brown hair tickled at her cheek. They could stay here a moment more. The boys had plans to go off to some restaurant or bar or wherever immediately after work, leaving them alone for the whole evening. There was dinner, of course, and Julia couldn’t remember if she’d told Saunders to go away until the morning, or only until dinner time. And of course, if it was the former, they’d have to fetch it themselves, and oh, what a bother that would be. If only Saunders could—

“My knickers!” Julia shrieked, bolting upright with enough force to send poor Jane sprawling.

“What?” Jane blinked. “What about your knickers, Julia?”

“I’ve left them downstairs,” she said with dawning horror. “You’ve let me leave them downstairs! Oh, Jane, don’t you recall? You were such a brute down there and you practically tore them off of me, and I never retrieved them. And Saunders has probably already discovered them just lying around long ago—she never misses a thing, that damned woman.”

Jane made a choking sound that sounded suspiciously like an aborted laugh. Julia’s glare could have withered her if only her hair hadn’t looked like something out of a gutter. As it was, it served only to shatter the last of Jane’s infinitesimal self-control. Her howling laughter brought Julia nothing but grief.

“Stop that! This is all your fault, you brazen hussy! You are the one who pounced on me just like a cat in heat.”

“And you are the one who kissed me first—don’t you deny it!” Jane’s own hair was in no better shape, and as a matter of fact looked a good deal worse. “It’s hardly my fault you let me practically shag you right there on the sofa and then had to knock over the bell. There’s nothing to be done about it now.”

 Julia dropped her head in her hands. “What are we to do now?”

 “Just…if she brings it up—and heaven knows if she values her job, she wouldn’t dare—just tell her you’d gotten beastly hot and—and took them off. Or something.”

Julia lifted her head up to glare at Jane in utter astonishment. “I…took them off?” she repeated incredulously. “My undergarment? In the middle of the afternoon with my dearest friend present? And then just—what—left them there for anyone to see? Oh, Jane, this is no time to be so foolish. What a rubbish story.”

“It is not! You were overheated. The damp spot on the gusset was mere perspiration. Oh, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, darling. It happens to women your age all the time. You know…The Change.”

“Women my—” The pillow was in Julia’s hand before she was conscious of even reaching for it.

“Julia, stop it!” Jane tumbled from the bed in her haste to dash to safety. “You mustn’t be ashamed of the natural way of life, Julia! Why you’re practically fifty, aren’t you? Saunders will understand. She’s a woman of the world, you know.”

“I’ll show you the natural way of life.”

Moving at the speed and agility of a woman half her age, thank you very much, Julia caught Jane in the shoulder with her pillow. Another smack sent her stumbling forward to sprawl back on the bed. And really, the sight of Jane’s vulnerable little bum sticking up at her was just too much too temptation to resist. Julia’s lesson in self-control had not extended to this.

“You’ll regret those cracks at my age, darling,” she declared as her palm landed against pale flesh with a loud crack of her own.

“Oh! Oh, Julia, don’t!” Jane’s legs kicked out in feeble protest. But the enticing way she had started to wriggle her hips told another story. “Julia!”

“Hush now. It’s high time you learned how to mind your elder, if that is what you insist on calling me, you wretched little brat.”

Smack!

“Unhand me at once, Julia! This is most unseemly!”

Smack!

“Oh my…”

Smack!

“Julia…”

Smack!

Julia Sterroll was no stranger to a second round of lovemaking. But a third? Well, there was a first time for absolutely everything, wasn’t there? And who better to share such a momentous occasion than her bosom friend?

Smack!

“Please…”

Admiring the pink splotches painted over dear Jane’s rear, Julia caressed the sore flesh with her soft hand. “You ought to be thankful I don’t make you go down there and retrieve them just like this.” An idle threat, but one that made Jane whimper all the same.

She leaned forward. “Now, are you going to mind your tongue, or shall we embark upon another lesson for better uses?”

Slowly, experimentally, Jane turned over and inched back to lay upon the bed. “I suppose I can be good,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “While you’re up, pick up my skirt, won’t you, Julia? It’s probably wrinkled something ghastly by now. And where are my knickers, come to think of it?”

“Whatever do you need them for?” With a grin just bordering on maniacal, Julia seized her dearest friend by the hips and flipped her back around onto her front. And just to keep her from wriggling away, she made herself quite comfortable astride her long and lovely back. “You didn’t think I would be letting you get away with your cheek that easily, did you? Oh, Jane, my darling. We are only just beginning. How old did you say I was? Fifty? What an appropriate number.”

Smack!

“Julia Sterroll! You let me up this instant!”

Smack!

“I mean it!”

Smack!

“JULIA!”